I lived life in suspension

A life of

Suppressed emotion and

Stifled self-expression

 

Until sixth grade when

My language arts teacher

Planted a seed of

Love for writing

And my heart

Burst

 

From all the ideas

The confusion

The pain

And the tiny amusements

Contained in the mind of a quiet one

Living in a world that grows evermore loud

 

My poems are not the most profound

My language not the most ornate

Like those of some of my peers

 

But writing is

Cathartic

Therapeutic

 

It provides time

For self-reflection

 

Time to battle those

Adolescent demons that still

Haunt my daydreams

 

And through it all, I

Learn to embrace

The mess in my mind

As fully, unapologetically

Me